


A mysterious invitation

by Hessy



Series: The Ranger Mishaps [8]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Book 8: The Kings of Clonmel, Feels, Gen, Light Angst, Paperwork Club, Question - Freeform, RA Fanfic Challenge, RA Fanfic Challenge #3, aka don't tell me that Stilson didn't leave a mess in his office just to mess with Crowley, diplomatic mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hessy/pseuds/Hessy
Summary: When going through years old paperwork, Crowley finds something disturbing... A funeral invitation. But it can't be true, or can it?
Relationships: Crowley Meratyn & Halt O'Carrick
Series: The Ranger Mishaps [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696990
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64
Collections: RA Fanfiction Challenge #3





	1. The mysterious invitation

Crowley Meratyn rarely got surprised. Him being elected the new Commandant, that didn't surprise him in the slightest given how vehemently sure the other Rangers were. Even Samdash agreed that Crowley would make a great leader. 

And so, he became the Ranger Commandant. Stilson, the former Commandant, was furious with this decision, claiming that everything had been just a fluke, but there were no debates about who the real leader was. The mess in Stilson's- wait, _his_ office also didn't surprise him. From what he had known and seen of Stilson, he didn't exactly seem like the neat type of person. The office was just a big mess of paperwork, and it took Crowley just one look to know that getting through this would be a pain. Fortunately, he had Halt with him. The poor man wasn't with him to see the office, and therefore had no idea how many weeks (or months) of anguish awaited him there. Crowley was sure as hell that he would want to worm his way out of the paperwork - in fact, if he were being completely honest, he also didn't want to go through all of this and range it and archive some important messages, but it had to be done. And now that he was the Commandant, he could surely abuse his power just a bit if it meant weeks in Halt's _bright_ company and not suffering through this hell alone. 

A few weeks later Farrel had broken his leg in two places, so he joined Halt and Crowley in the Paperwork fanclub™. It wasn't like he had anything to do. Moreover, Crowley distracted him with paperwork so he wouldn't spend his time wallowing in self-pity over his broken leg. 

It was the end of summer, and after five long months, the three of them had finally got through the most recent paperwork, ranged and archived it all, and now they had come onto older papers and reports. Halt had found one that dated back to Crowley's apprenticeship and was very amused to know that in his fourth year, Crowley failed the silent movement exam at the Gathering. He was doing fine until the moment he tripped over a root and fell face-first into Cropper's droppings. What got him caught was the stream of curses that left his mouth immediately after he got back up and wiped the worst off his face. Halt had a blast with that document. He also found one of Lewin's apprenticeship mishaps in the reports, so now he had blackmail material for both of the youngest Rangers in service (excluding himself, of course). 

That day, Halt was away on a mission. Since Farrel had been injured and couldn't take care of his fief, local bandit groups have become bold and were trying to take over the field, Crowley decided that Halt should get some experience of his own. Granted, if he could, he would send a more experienced Ranger, but given the lack of them and the fact that Halt was pretty capable, Crowley felt like he could send him there to take care of it. 

It was just Crowley and Farrel who were going through the years old paperwork at a snail's pace. The weather was unusually hot and both men had their sleeves rolled up as high as they could go. The window was open but nothing could help them get away from the heat. And so, they were reading paper after paper, almost falling asleep, because they both haven't slept well for a few months now - the paperwork kept them up every evening since Crowley also had to take care of things as the Ranger stationed in Araluen fief. Usually, he let Halt do that, but he quickly discovered just how much the crime had spread around and sometimes, both of them were needed. 

Crowley had just finished one stack of papers and put them aside so he could start with yet another big pile. Everything was mundane, and by now he had no problems recognizing which paperwork was important and which not at first glance. 

Until he came to one specific paper. 

Crowley took it and curiously held it up in front of his face. 

It was a funeral invitation for King Oswald. Crowley had no idea how it ended up in his office between the Ranger stuff, but he didn't want to care about that. The important thing was that it was an invitation to a funeral. The funeral of Prince Halt O'Carrick of Hibernia. 

Crowley almost spat out his coffee when he saw the picture. Again, no idea why they'd attach a picture of the dead person, but he was glad they did. Because it was as if he were looking at Halt. Except for the beard. This would be a younger version of Halt, if anything. He still had that boyish look around him. 

_You are hereby invited to Prince Halt O’Carrick’s funeral._

_The funeral will take place in Dun Kilty, Hibernia, on the second day of the next month, the year of 626 of the Common Era._

Crowley’s eyes scanned the text. That… couldn’t be true, right? But deep down, all the pieces of the puzzle came all together. Halt was from Hibernia, he said so himself. Crowley remembered quite vividly how Halt hesitated when he told him where he met Pritchard. Was it not Droghela but Dun Kilty? And the drawing, it looked so much like Halt… He took another glance at it but something felt a bit off.

“The nose, that can’t be him,” he murmured under his breath. Truly, the drawing had a nose too big, not like the real Halt, but it was close enough.

As curious as he was, Crowley didn’t go straight to the library to see the Hibernian Royal family tree right away, instead, he tucked the invitation into his pocket and decided to go in the evening when everyone would be asleep. 

Annoyed by the vision of paperwork for the next few hours, Crowley sank back into rhythm, grumbling about stupid papers. 

It was well after dark, and Crowley and Farrel had just bid each other goodbye when they left the office. However, only Farrel was on his way to bed. Crowley had another mission to complete. 

Silently as only a Ranger could, the redhead sneaked into the library. There had to be some records on the Royal families of the modern era. Getting a candle, he set to work. 

Really, he had been in the library enough times to know where everything was. He needed the records often enough for the horrendous paperwork. In fact, he mused, I should be thanking all that paperwork. Grabbing the correct book from its place, Crowley set it on the table, along with the candle he had lit. 

The silence in the library that seemed so terrifying was interrupted by the sounds of turning pages. It was the thing Crowley was focused on, but he never let his guard down. He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he was doing something illegal. But, he supposed that if his suspicions turned out to be true, random people learning that a fugitive Prince is disguised as an Araluenian Ranger, the kingdom would have some serious problems to deal with. They didn’t need any more problems. 

For a wild second, Crowley told himself that he probably shouldn’t look, but curiosity took over. Who knew what could happen if someone had come to know? And the Rangers would be left in the dark. And they didn’t like not knowing. 

There! His eyes stopped on one specific page, and his jaw almost dropped when he saw a tiny note: body never found. 

Distraught, the Ranger Commandant closed the book, put it on its place, and left the library as quickly as he could. 

Laying in his bed that night, Crowley kept staring at the ceiling. It was true. Well, probably. He had solid evidence, but did he dare bring it up with Halt? Clenching his hands into fists, Crowley made his decision.

A few days later, he was once again working on paperwork with Farrel, when a message got to him that Halt was back. The young Commandant didn’t wait for him to come to the office but went to welcome him. 

“Hey Halt! Glad to be back in your bright company!” he opened his arms for a hug. Halt stopped a few steps in front of him, making no move to accept the hug. It’d have been too good, Crowley thought and instead smiled brightly. 

“So, how was your trip?” he beamed at him. Halt shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. Crowley would get the full story once in the office, where he would also hand in the report he had written (out of the whole Ranger lifestyle, reports were what irritated Halt the most). 

“It went well,” he said, walking past him and into the office. Crowley went after him inside, still determined to ask him that one question that tortured him for days now. 

Farrel wasn’t in the office. Which was weird, considering that he had trouble moving around, but the situation was perfect.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the Prince of Hibernia, Halt?” Crowley asked, determined to get an answer. The black-haired man stopped in his tracks and Crowley saw how he clenched his fists. Then, Halt slowly half-turned his head and said in a low, dangerous voice: “That’s none of your business.” There was dead silence for a second or two. Then, he continued: “I’m not the Prince of Hibernia.” _At least, not anymore._

The young Ranger stormed outside, leaving Crowley in the middle of his office, too shocked to go after him. He was stunned, he definitely didn’t expect such a reaction. He wasn’t even angry, perhaps more irritated, like he didn’t want anyone to mess with his past. Crowley sighed and relaxed his stance. 

Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward to follow after Halt when he was stopped. 

“Leave him be, Crowley. He needs some time,” Farrel said from behind him. Crowley turned around, shocked. He had thought the Ranger wasn’t in the room anymore. But instead, Farrel had a stack of papers in his hand, balancing with his crutch in the other hand. 

Crowley furrowed his brows.

“You heard everything, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Farrel limped next to him and put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“I did. But Crowley, let him go. He probably doesn’t want to talk about it. One day, he’ll come to you by himself. You just have to wait for that day.”

With that, Farrel turned and went back to organizing papers, leaving Crowley to stand in the middle of his own office, looking wistfully at the door. 


	2. The hard truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has almost forgotten about his suspicions until a coronation comes. The coronation of a fratricide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got an urge to write so I present chapter 2!

It had been a few years since Crowley became the Ranger Commandant. A few years full of paperwork, dealing with the war's aftermath and endless efforts to track down Morgarath or at least to find out what exactly was he doing up in the mountains. 

With the first apprentices graduating and taking over their own fiefs, and some older Rangers returning after the war (as they had been away and the message that the Ranger Corps was reinstated hadn't reached them before the war), Crowley had more Rangers to split the job up to. Farrel's leg also healed nicely and he was currently stationed in Whitby. After his injury, he had been looking after Aspienne fief for a while to get used to being back in work and last year, he was deemed well enough to take on a more important fief such as Whitby. 

What had to be said, it was just a few months since Berrigan lost his leg in a Skandian raid. Just like Farrel, he was recovering at Castle Araluen and helped Crowley with the paperwork, but they both knew that he would never be able to be a Ranger again. So far, Crowley wanted Berrigan to feel useful as he was down from the loss of his leg. And, of course, he intended to keep him there with him until the former Ranger knew what to do with his life next. 

What surprised Crowley was that Halt took on an apprentice. Gilan, the Caraway Battlemaster's son. The boy was doing well in his training. Crowley had been skeptical at first about letting the boy continue his swordsmanship training, as it was an atypical weapon for a Ranger, but he was eventually convinced by Farrel. 

The Ranger had arrived to report to him about some bandit group he had taken care of, and he remembered their dialogue quite well. 

_"You should let the boy keep his sword," Farrel said, tapping the edge of his battleaxe. "It can come in handy one day. And, of course, who would expect a Ranger to carry a sword? It will do for a perfect element of surprise."_

_Crowley looked up from his mug of tea._

_"Says the man with the battleaxe," he smiled, amused. "I can let him keep it and see where it goes."_

Of course, the years had been filled in by action as Crowley was the Ranger stationed at Araluen fief, and also endless diplomatic meetings. His mastery of silent movement had come in handy so many times, as people never noticed him standing there for at least a few minutes, and during that time, Crowley had so many opportunities to listen in on such interesting things. 

He hadn't forgotten his suspicions about Halt being the Hibernian prince, and he was almost about to let them go, until one day, he was summoned to King Duncan's office. 

That day started out nicely. Berrigan came to the office to talk to him. He wasn't in his (now usual) gloomy mood, instead, he was smiling brightly, holding up a familiar item. Crowley recognized it as his jongleur cloak. 

"Berrigan! Nice to see you without your gloomy decor," he winked at his fellow Ranger. Berrigan didn't share his amusement. Instead, he sat down on the chair, staring him right into the eye. 

"Crowley, I need to talk to you," he said in a serious tone. 

The Ranger Commandant pushed his paperwork away. "So I figured." 

Berrigan showed him the jongleur cloak.

"I don't want to stay holed up here the whole rest of my life, Crowley. It's time for me to move on."

The red-haired Ranger nodded. He didn't expect Berrigan, a Ranger who loved to sing and dance, and valued freedom above all, to stay surrounded by the castle's walls, however beautiful they were. 

"Do you remember this?" Berrigan asked, nodding towards the colourful cloak. Crowley nodded. Why, of course he did. 

A few years ago, on their journey to take down Morgarath and free Prince Duncan and King Oswald, they were once looking for Ranger Samdash in Eagleton fief. And since the locals had been unhelpful, Berrigan decided to try a different approach. People were trusting towards jongleurs and were able to tell them the darkest secrets. 

_"The locals aren't telling us something," Crowley said that evening when they all gathered around the fire. The other Rangers nodded, agreeing with him. They had all noticed how people fell silent every time someone even mentioned Ranger Samdash._

_Berrigan shrugged._

_"Maybe they just need someone who they can trust," he said, winking at his fellow Rangers. He went to the horses and returned with an unfamiliar colourful object that he held up proudly._

_"They might trust a jongleur coming to their village," he said cheerfully, showing the cloak to the others. "When I was younger and had to go on one of my first big missions, I had to travel in disguise. Nicholl got me this superb cloak."_

_The Rangers looked at each other but no one denied that people were friendly towards jongleurs and could very well tell Berrigan just where Samdash was. Or went._

In the end, it didn't work, of course. But it was a great idea and Crowley knew that Berrigan enjoyed his days in this disguise. The redhead clasped hands. 

"Very well, Berrigan. I won't keep you here by force," he said, noticing a hint of appreciation in the other Ranger's eyes. 

"Thank you, Crowley. Can I keep Nudge?" he asked, referring to his mare. She was stabled with Cropper these days, and she was old enough to retire. 

Crowley didn't shake his head, but he also didn't nod. 

"I don't know about that, Berrigan. You can write a letter to Bob, if you want an answer," Crowley answered. He wasn't an expert on Ranger horses, gods no, but he knew that Bob sometimes kept older horses to join in the breeding program, and he knew that the breeder would know if he needed Nudge much more than he did. 

Berrigan nodded his head slightly. "Thank you, Crowley. For everything." He was almost about to leave when the Commandant spoke up again. 

"Berrigan... Maybe you'd like to consider working for the Corps sometimes. As an undercover agent," he suggested. He knew very well it could be too painful for Berrigan to return to partial service immediately. 

The one-legged Ranger stopped in the door. His fingers clenched around the cloak and he said quietly: "I'll think about it." 

Crowley nodded, not realizing that at the moment, Berrigan couldn't see him. He knew that the former Ranger would return and help him with more paperwork. 

He didn't stick around for Berrigan to come back, though. A servant knocked on the door. 

"His Majesty King Duncan would like to see you," the servant said and stood between the door proudly.

Crowley sighed and massaged his temples. He had just been dealing with a difficult report and didn't need any distractions. 

"When?" he asked through gritted teeth. The servant didn't move a muscle as he replied: "Right now, sir." 

Crowley sighed. He couldn't ignore a direct order from the King, so he put the ink and quill away and followed the servant to the King's office. 

"Ranger Crowley, Your Majesty," Lord Anthony announced Crowley's presence and left the door open for him. 

Once seated in the office, with a mug of steaming hot coffee, Crowley waited impatiently (not letting the King know of his impatience, of course) for the King to tell him why he had summoned him. 

“Crowley, I will be going to the coronation of Prince Ferris O’Carrick of Hibernia. I want you to accompany me as the head of security,” he said, watching as the Ranger nodded and asked for some more details. They’d be leaving in two days, a small diplomatic party with ten men as the King’s guards. Crowley had been allowed to select three archers that would be under his command, the others were knights hardened in battle with years of experience. The entire journey would take two weeks and Crowley was sure he could leave the important matters in Berrigan’s hands. And if trouble arose in Araluen fief, Berwick was there to help as he retired a year ago. He was still capable and could take care of the fief until Crowley returned. 

Even though this journey meant no holidays for Crowley, he was enjoying that he could go somewhere that wasn’t Castle Araluen. Gods, he was stuck in that building for months! He craved freedom that was taken from him the moment he became the Commandant. And this journey provided him with some. 

He could relax on the way to Hibernia a bit since the King’s party was modest and didn’t attract a lot of attention, but once in Hibernia, he became alert again. This was another country, and even though Araluen was on friendly terms with Hibernia, it was better to be safe than sorry. Some of the knights complained that they couldn’t understand locals very well, but Crowley had no problems. Granted, he’d admit that he had trouble understanding Halt sometimes, but with him, he grew accustomed to the thick Hibernian accent. Now he was enormously glad that his best friend was originally from Hibernia. 

Crowley never forgot his suspicions about Halt being the Prince of Clonmel. In his research a few years ago, he found out that Halt and Ferris were twins. Crowley knew twins who looked different, but also twins that looked exactly the same. Yet, this knowledge could never prepare him for the shock that came when they arrived to Dun Kilty (the royal castle sure was fancy but had nothing against castle Araluen) and first saw the newly crowned King of Clonmel.

He looked exactly like Halt. Wait, no, not exactly, Crowley thought as he studied him a bit. Only King Duncan and him were allowed to see the young King, and the Ranger had a chance to subtly study him while also keeping an eye out for any sign of danger. 

Prince Ferris was very similar to Halt, but there were subtle differences between them. First, Ferris probably wasn’t a big fan of sports. He liked to stay in the city in his luxurious castle and eat fine food. As a result, his tummy was growing. Second difference Crowley noticed were his eyes. While Halt’s eyes were dark and he never backed down, Ferris was his complete opposite. His willpower was weak. He’d look away in three seconds if he was met with the Ranger’s curious gaze. 

During the short audience with the King, Crowley noticed the change in Duncan’s expression. He sighed inwardly. He knew that the King wasn’t stupid. He was a smart, observant man and he definitely must’ve noticed how similar King Ferris and Ranger Halt were. 

He wasn’t mistaken. As soon as they left, King Duncan motioned Crowley to come with him to his room. There, he sat on the bed, his eyes wide. 

“Crowley, is Halt…?” he left the question hang in the air, too surprised to actually say it. The Ranger Commandant shrugged. 

“A few years ago, I found a funeral invitation for Prince Halt and did my research. I have a strong suspicion that Halt is, in fact, the rightful heir to the Hibernian throne, but he denied all of it when I asked,” he explained, watching as Duncan furrowed his brows. 

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” he asked in an accusing tone. Crowley looked him right in the eye. 

“Your Majesty, I had a strong suspicion, but I have no proof. Of course, if Halt admitted to it, I would have told you, but I decided to let it go,” he shrugged as King Duncan looked away. The noble sighed. 

“Crowley, if we are really hiding a fugitive prince… Do you realize what consequences it would have if someone knew?” he said finally. The consequences could be catastrophic, they both knew. Yet Crowley knew that Halt didn’t like talking about his past. He would change the topic or keep silent. The red-haired Ranger felt - no, he knew - that something terrible must’ve happened to Halt to make him flee Hibernia. He saw how his fellow Ranger was happy in Araluen. And he had to defend him. 

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, we have no proof of Halt being the dead Hibernian prince-” he started but then the door opened. A young woman with dark brown hair had come in. She must’ve been around seventeen or so years old. She was looking at them with curiosity in her eyes and definitely didn’t mind that she just went in on a private meeting. 

“Are you talking about Halt?” she asked, her brown eyes widening in curiosity. King Duncan raised an eyebrow. 

“And you are?” he prompted her. The girl smiled brightly. 

“Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Caitlyn O’Carrick, and you are?” She made a slight bow. 

Crowley looked at Duncan and both men introduced themselves. 

“So you are the princess?” Duncan asked. Caitlyn nodded. Crowley looked around. He found it weird that the Princess had no guards with her. Did they feel so safe inside the castle with hundreds of visitors? 

He soon came to know that the Princess was just a big ray of sunshine. 

“Yes,” she smiled in response to Duncan’s question. “I’m so sorry about eavesdropping, but I was walking around and thought I heard you mention my brother. Is he alive? I know he is. One day, his horse Declan disappeared from the stable,” she apologized and told the story. Crowley furrowed his brows. He knew Declan. He had been Halt’s horse before he got Abelard. That wasn’t a coincidence. He was sure now that Halt was a fugitive prince. On one hand, he felt happy. Happy that Halt wanted to go to Araluen and become a Ranger, but on the other hand, he was confused. Why would Halt give up a life of luxury? Crowley knew that Halt had a high disregard for authorities as shown with Morgarath. 

Crowley contemplated whether to tell the Princess the truth. Finally, seeing her big hopeful expression, he looked at the door, making sure they were still closed and said in a low voice: “Halt is alive. He’s in Araluen and he’s happy.” 

He saw how the girl beamed and almost jumped around his neck to hug him while Duncan crossed his arms. 

“Crowley, a minute ago you said that you had no proof,” he reminded the Ranger and Crowley smiled. 

“I didn’t, Your Majesty. But now I have. Before he got his Ranger horse, Halt had a Hibernian horse called Declan,” he explained. Hearing a sniffing noise, both men turned to Caitlyn. She was crying, a big smile on her face, so they assumed those were happy tears. 

“Are you alright, Princess Caitlyn?” Duncan asked, a hint of worry in his voice. Who knew what would happen if some guards came in and found the Princess crying? 

She wiped off her tears. “I am, I am just so happy that my brother is alive.” 

Caitlyn spent some time asking the men questions about Halt’s life in Araluen, but soon, it was time for her to leave to attend to some royal duties. 

She was smiling, thanking Crowley and King Duncan every last minute before she stopped and checked if the corridor was deserted. She closed the door, making both men confused. 

Caitlyn bent down so that she was at their eye level, and said, her tone serious: “I’m glad that Halt is alive and well in Araluen. And that you might want him to come back home.” Duncan narrowed his eyes, how did she know what he was thinking about? His family should know what happened to him, right? 

“But I beg you. Never, ever let Halt return back here.” 

At this, Crowley’s eyes widened. Halt’s own sister… she didn’t want him there? Tilting his head in confusion, he asked: “Why not?” 

Caitlyn almost started crying at that point. A moment she had spent years trying to forget. The girl took a deep breath to keep herself calm, and whispered: “Because it was Ferris who tried to kill him.” 

The Princess stood up, her hands shaking a bit, but she managed a bow with polite: “Have a good night.” She left into the depths of the castle, leaving Crowley and Duncan completely dumbfounded. 

As King Duncan’s party left Dun Kilty the next day, Crowley didn’t even look at King Ferris. He didn’t deserve people worshipping him. Celebrating him. He was a cold-blooded traitor who wouldn’t hesitate to kill his own brother to get his throne. 

As they left and the Ranger never looked back, he made his decision. He’d guard Halt’s secret with his life, and he would do it the best by forgetting all about it. Only then could he protect Halt from his past. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the first two sentences directly from book 8 so credits to Flanny. Otherwise a short but dialogue-heavy chapter

_“What makes you think you can get this King Ferris to listen to you? Does he know you?” Crowley asked._

_“Yes, he knows me, all right,” Halt said. “He’s my brother.”_

* * *

It was a few hours later when Crowley got a moment alone with Halt. To say that he was shocked by the news would’ve been an overstatement. No, he was only shocked that Hibernia was taken into the conversation about the cult that was growing at Araluen’s western coast. 

The two Rangers were alone in one of Castle Redmont’s chambers, Halt standing still, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, Crowley pacing around like a caged animal. 

“Why did you lie about not being the lost Hibernian Prince, Halt?” Crowley asked, his tone high, and it sounded like he was trying to control his anger. The anger that he felt towards his best friend. He didn’t want to be angry at him. 

Halt didn’t seem to lose his cool. He penetrated Crowley with his cold gaze. 

“I didn’t lie. It was the truth. I wasn’t the Prince at that time. Not anymore.” His voice was just as cold as his eyes, and it would make anyone who wasn’t Crowley shiver. But Crowley wasn’t just anyone, and he wasn’t afraid of Halt like many other people were. 

“Being a Prince isn’t a choice, Halt, it’s a birthright,” he countered with his argument. You didn’t just undo being a prince, that just wasn’t possible. In his eyes, Halt was a prince whether he liked it or not. 

“A birthright I actively rejected!” It wasn’t often that Halt raised his tone. But when he did, it was always time to retreat. Not to Crowley, though. He had long passed the point where he'd be afraid of his best friend. 

"Halt, understand, I was just curious, all those years ago. Did you really think I was that stupid? That I wouldn't put two and two together? I saw the invitation to your funeral. I'm not stupid, and neither is the King." 

At this, Halt turned his head sharply to look at him. He let his stone expression fall and let his friend know about the anger inside. 

"The King? How many people have you told? How many people know?!" he asked, his cool present no more, only anger was left. And, Crowley supposed, rightful anger. 

The Commandant shrugged. "Well, I know, and King Duncan knows. But he came to know a few years later when we were at the coronation of King Ferris. Your brother. He connected the dots by himself, and then also by the Princess. Caitlyn, I think was her name. She knows too." 

Halt was left gaping with his mouth open. In any other setting, it would be hilarious to see him like that, but it was nothing but funny right now. 

"Caitlyn knew? Why didn't she ever say something?" He asked no one in particular, but even then, Crowley decided to answer his question. It was only fair. 

"We promised to never let you return to Hibernia. Duncan was reluctant to let you stay here as you were- are a fugitive Prince, but he changed his mind. And Caitlyn also didn't want you to return. She told us that your brother tried to kill you," he explained shortly what all had happened on the trip to Hibernia. Of course, as it was quite a few years back, he didn't remember every detail but knew enough to tell Halt. 

The black-haired Ranger started pacing around the room. Crowley followed his movement with his eyes, trying to predict how he'd react. 

Halt finally stopped at the table and set his arms on it. He looked down and said: "It happened three times. When we were sixteen, he tried to poison me. Half a year later, he let the roof tiles fall on me. And, a year later, he tried to drown me. Honestly, it was only Pritchard's training that helped me to survive." 

Crowley listened to him intently. He never knew this, and the fact that Pritchard helped, albeit indirectly, save Halt's life, that was information he never knew. He felt a new wave of gratefulness towards his late mentor, realizing how terrible Halt must've felt when Pritchard was killed. Pritchard, who saved Halt's life, and Halt couldn't save his. He suddenly understood Halt's behaviour after their mentor was killed much better. 

"I see. I'm sorry if I made some painful memories resurface, Halt. Are you sure that you want to go on this mission? I can send someone else," he offered, not truly wanting to take the risk that Ferris would come to know about his brother, and would inevitably try to kill him once again. However, Halt's reaction was pretty self-explanatory. 

"Me being Ferris' twin is exactly why I have to go, Crowley. Do you think that anyone else would be able to convince that coward that his country is in danger?" Halt's stone expression was in place again after the brief shock he got a few minutes ago. 

Crowley sighed and ran a hand through his red hair. 

"I know, Halt. Just.... be careful, alright?" 

The other Ranger looked at him shortly and said: "Don't worry. I'll be alright." 

With those words, he indicated that the conversation was over and left the room. He had a lot to ponder over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll be alright" -> fast forward to events of book 9

**Author's Note:**

> "One day, he'll tell you" -> *Spongebob voice* 25 years later...


End file.
